


Save Yourself

by PinkPerfume



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, MGiT, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23341741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPerfume/pseuds/PinkPerfume
Summary: Jodie is a 21 year old college drop-out working as a night janitor in the campus theater building. After a strange interaction with a mirror spits her out in Thedas through a rift, she faces all but certain death. Derek Trevelyan comes to her rescue. It's a life debt she's not soon to forget.Derek is beyond livid - he'd come to the conclave to protect his brother, Maxwell, hoping that the kind-hearted mage would finally get a change to live in peace. Instead, Max was murdered, along with hundreds of others and the Divine, and these Chantry thugs think he did it. All because of some painful glowing mark on his hand that he cannot for the life of him, remember how he got. And now that he's proven his use, they want him to lead them.At least the pretty young woman who fell out of the rift is giving him excellent advice on how to do that.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor (Dragon Age)/Modern Girl in Thedas, Male Inquisitor (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

Dusty and cracked as it was, the mirror was beautiful in it’s own right. Propped against the wall in the cluttered prop closet, it held a sort of regality and authenticity that the plastic, polyester, and fake hair of the other items that littered the room lacked.

Jodie had resisted its allure for this long out of a sense that she wasn’t supposed to touch it. But after working as a janitor for the theater building this long, there was really nothing left for her to explore when her shift duties were over. And Jodie really did not want to go re-clean glass she’d already cleaned twice, so in the remaining twenty minutes of her shift nobody would begrudge her if she went and paid her respects to the thing.

Not that there was anybody else in there at 3:00 am to care.

Lifting her rag, the young woman wiped at the layer of dust that had come to settle on the smooth surface of the mirror. Maybe it was the sophisticated arcs and swirls of the silver metal that framed the thing, but she just felt compelled to clean it.

“Hmm…” Regarding it with a tilt of her head, Jodie tried to place the feeling that she’d seen something like it before. 

_ Italian maybe?  _ The swirls were too thin and delicate for that.  _ French?  _ As far as she knew they’d never been much into floral metalwork. And most designs from the middle-east were out, those were almost exclusively geometric and rectangular.

Absently stroking the edges of the mirror, she was deep enough into her mental art history nerd-out that she failed to pay attention to what really should have been common sense for anybody touching an old, broken object made out of glass and metal.

A sharp sting of pain as broken metal cut her skin made her gasp, and she hastily yanked her hand away.

Sucking her breath through her teeth in a low hiss, Jodie looked at her left hand with dismay - a large, jagged cut spanned at least two inches across her palm, and was oozing blood.

“Shit.” Grabbing a clean rag off her belt, she gingerly tied the thing around her hand as tightly as she could, grimacing as she looked up and realized she’d spattered blood on the mirror.

“At least this gives me something to clean.” She murmured to herself. Dryer humor than she usually partook in - to keep her mind off the fact that she couldn’t remember when she had her last tetanus shot, and that old metal could be poisoning her by the second…

With a large inhale, Jodie sighed out, long and low and leaned against the mirror in exasperation.

And promptly fell right through.

\---

Roiling and sparking like an angry green thunderstorm, Derek Trevelyan felt like the Breach was a perfect analogy for his mental state right now.

“You’re asking me what I think? All that shit about how I’d better come along quietly since I’m so obviously guilty - and now you want  _ me  _ to make the decisions?” He shook his head incredulously. “You’d believe I killed my own brother and  _ hundreds _ of innocent people, but you have no qualms about letting me shoulder the burden of running this headless chicken of an operation.”

Cassandra’s expression hardened, but as if sensing the impending conflict, Solas spoke up from behind him before she could open her mouth.

“ _ You _ have the mark.”

“...And for that reason, you are the one we must keep alive.” Cassandra glanced at the mountain behind them and shook her head. “Since we cannot agree on our own…”

“I doubt I’ll survive your ‘ _ trial _ ,’ but if I’m going to be trying to close  _ that _ thing,” Derek’s gaze flicked up to the Breach, “Then I’d rather not waste a bunch of energy climbing up a mountain covered in ice, snow, and demons. We’ll charge the valley with the soldiers.”

That wasn’t to say he had much faith in the villagers hastily given swords these Chantry people were employing. It was still their best chance.

“Leliana. Bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.” Cassandra’s tone was grave, and the hooded woman’s only response was a nod. 

Filing off the bridge, they barely made it off before that insufferable empty-headed Chantry loon weaseled in a few threatening last words.

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker.”

Derek snorted. As if the Chancellor’s head wouldn’t be rolling soon after if they and all the remaining forces died in the valley.

It wasn’t long before they’d reached the rift in the valley - the painful throbbing of the mark on his hand made it impossible not to notice their increasing proximity. 

Lip curled in disgust, Derek made quick work of a shade with his greatsword, brutally cleaving it in two. The soldier it had all but mauled with it’s claws gave a last pained cry before giving up the ghost, blood mixing with green demon ooze on the white snow.

“Poor bastard.” He muttered, and made for the crackling green tear spitting out demons. He was getting real tired of the sight already. Would it be too much to ask for it to just run out of energy and disappear?

“How many rifts  _ are  _ there?” Varric sounded as exasperated as he felt.

“We must seal it if we are to get past!” 

“Great.” Of course it was too much to ask.

Gritting his teeth as he dodged the sharp bony tail of the terror that had just decided to grace them with its presence, Derek shoved his glowing left hand out and had it do it’s thing.

They all breathed out an exhale of relief as the rift collapsed in on itself, and vanished.

“Sealed, as before.” Solas raised his chin and gave him a look of approval. “You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

“Not like I had a choice, but thanks.” He said, tapping his sword against the ground to rid it of demon guts. 

“Let’s just hope it works on the big one.” Varric sounded determinedly less optimistic than Solas did. Derek had to agree with him. He didn’t see himself getting out of this alive if he failed.

“Lady Cassandra. You managed to close the rift! Well done.”

_ Glaringly Fereldan accent on that one. _ Derek thought, slinging his greatsword over his back.

“Do not congratulate me, Commander. This was the prisoner’s doing.”

Derek bristled, wondering how long he was going to be referred to as  _ the prisoner _ .

“Is it?” Said Commander’s eyebrows raised, and Derek crossed his arms as the blond man looked him over. “I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.”

His tone couldn’t have been more accusational if he’d tried.

“Then it’s too bad for you that I’m the only one with this.” Derek said with a thin smile as he held up his left hand. “But I don’t fancy the idea of demons for neighbors so your luck hasn’t ran out yet.”

“I see.” The Commander didn’t look like he liked Derek’s attitude, but he could hardly care less. Turning to Cassandra, he continued. “The way to the temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there.”

“Then we’d best move quickly. Give us time, Commander.” Cassandra’s gaze lingered for a moment on a group of soldiers that were regrouping behind the Commander.

“I’ll do what I can.” He said, looking for all as if he was sucking on a sour lemon. “Maker watch over you. For all our sakes.” With that, he made to follow the troops heading towards the front, quickly reaching over to help a soldier that was limping.

His companions made conversation as they reached the Temple of Sacred Ashes, but Derek wasn’t listening. Flickering from charred corpse to corpse, burned beyond recognition and all half-buried in the ground and frozen in positions of agony, his gaze lingered. Which one of them was Maxwell? It made him bitter to imagine the kind of suffering his brother had endured in his last moments.

Suffering in the circle tower more than half his life, Maxwell had written to him in palpable elation about the Conclave - and then his final bid for freedom had been blown to smithereens. Derek had no love for these Chantry glory hounds and their quest for righteousness, but he wouldn’t rest until they found the one responsible for his brother’s murder.

_ “Bring forth the sacrifice-...” _

On their way down, a deep, grating male voice echoed in the crater - there was no doubt it was the one responsible for this, speaking of sacrifice and clearly holding the Divine captive. Derek committed the voice to memory.

He’d know who it was immediately if he ever heard it in person, he made sure of that.

“That was  _ your _ voice. Most Holy called out to you...”

The Fade, useless thing as it was, revealed only a shadow of the demonic man, but the addition of himself in the missing pieces of his memory were useful at least. He could see the hope in Cassandra’s eyes as she turned to him.

“You  _ were _ there!” She exclaimed, as the Fade stopped it’s eerie record of past events. “Who attacked? And the Divine, is she-... was this vision true?” She demanded. “What are we seeing?”

“As I said  _ before _ , I. Don’t. Remember.” Derek bit out, trying to keep his patience. “Really wish I  _ did _ so that whatever evil bastard we were just given a Fade play-by-play of could be dead by now for what he did.”

“They are echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place.” Solas said, answering Cassandra’s question instead. Raising his voice, he continued. “This rift is not sealed, but it is closed - albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely.”

Sound logic, he supposed.

“However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

Of course. Nothing was ever that easy.

“That means demons.” Cassandra called out to her soldiers in warning. “Stand ready!”

“Gotta be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” Derek glanced warily at the large hissing shape of morphine green rock above them as Cassandra’s soldiers took up positions around the rift. “But seeing as I don’t have any better ideas than the resident Fade expert elf, I’ll do as Solas says for now.”

“We are ready.” Cassandra looked to him after a confirming nod with one of her troops.

“Here goes nothing.” Derek sighed and reluctantly held up his hand, feeling the now-familiar tugging sensation as a stream of green magic connected his mark to the rift.

None of them were surprised when something burst out of the rift the moment it was opened.

But it wasn’t the demons they were expecting.

Gasping in pain as she hauled herself off the pile of rubble she’d been jettisoned into, an oddly dressed young woman struggled to sit up, still slightly smoking with the remnants of Fade fire.

“I know the world has gone to hell in a hand basket already, but I was hoping I would last a little longer before losing my mind.” Varric quipped, “Or did everyone else just see the Fade spit out  _ another _ human?”

For once, Solas looked utterly confused, as if that was the last thing he’d expected. So much for a rift expert.

“Be wary. Demons are masters of trickery.” Cassandra warned, not sheathing her weapon as she approached the young woman. 

Derek resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This was obviously no demon.

Shaking off the vertigo and spitting her long brown hair out of her mouth, the woman finally managed to orient herself, luminous gold eyes widening in shock as she lifted her face and caught sight of the group.

Now that he had a good look at her, she was beautiful. And younger than he’d first thought - barely into her adult years. Derek watched as several emotions passed over her face, especially how the blood drained from her face turning her already pale complexion paler when she caught sight of the gruesome charred remains of the dead.

Her mouth worked as if to speak but all that escaped her was a terrified squeak as she scrabbled backwards against the rock.

\---

Falling through the mirror had landed her in some weird ceilingless room with lots of other mirrors. Mirrors that were floating, and twice as large at the one she’d come through. Which, no matter how she pushed at, would not accept her back in. None of the others would either, and some of them floated so high up she couldn’t reach them to try.

Jodie had wandered through the strange space, looking for a door, an opening, any kind of exit or indication as to where she was. There was odd looking vegetation growing in here, and if not for the lack of a breeze or any kind of moving air, she would’ve thought she was outside.

Coming across a particularly large mirror, she’d noticed that it did not reflect what was in front of it - instead, it showed a scene of snowy mountains with an odd green glow in the sky - the aurora borealis perhaps. There was something lying on the ground next to the mirror. A small box, that when she had opened had blinded her in a burst of gold light.

If falling through a mirror hadn’t taught her the lesson of not touching things, she’d certainly learned it now. Whatever had been in the box had fused to the top of her hand - the injured one. Well, previously injured. The dried blood had remained, but her palm was as whole as it had been pre-mirror touching. Jodie wasn’t counting herself lucky about that though, because the damn thing had all but fused into the skin on the top of her hand. It looked like a round piece of amber, circled by a small ring of silver with a pattern pressed into it that vaguely reminded her of a shield. 

No matter how she had scratched and pried at it, it wouldn’t budge. For the sake of her quickly reddening skin, she’d let it be.

Glaring at the box, she’d decided to try the mirror one more time. At this point, she was desperate to get out of this place.

Anticipating the same solid rejection, she had put all her body weight and a running start into her attempt. Which was why, when the mirror had offered no resistance, she’d gone barrelling through and straight into a tornado of pure green waiting on the other side.

Unable to tell which way was up and which was down, she’d fought the nausea as best she could, until after several minutes of whirling limbo, she’d found herself making harsh contact with the ground.

Tingles of pain shot up her leg, but she could still move both limbs, so hopefully that meant nothing was broken. The rocks beneath her hands were cold like ice, but hadn’t scraped her skin anywhere deep enough to bleed. Spitting hair out of her mouth, she oriented herself and sat up.

Unlike before, Jodie was not alone here. A glowing green spiral, snowy mountains, and several armored and heavily clothed people stationed about the rubble of a stone building, all holding weapons. Giving her a multitude of looks that were probably appropriate considering she’d just been spat out of… something.

Before she could begin to ask for an explanation, she caught a closer look of what she’d previously assumed to be fires on the ground. And they were fires. On people.

Jodie had seen her fair share of gore in video games and movies, but good lord these scenes could not compare to the visceral real thing. The scent in the frigid air confirmed it, a stink like burnt meat she’d never smelled before. 

Panicking, she scrambled backward.

“O-O-Oh my g-g-g-od is that a-... -holy shit.” Jodie’s brain whirled as she comprehended the sight before her. Hand covering her mouth, she noticed now there were several of them - gruesome smoking pires frozen in agony. 

“Who are you? Explain yourself!” A woman had approached her, sword and shield in hand. Jodie got the sense that she had seen this woman somewhere before, but couldn’t recognize her.

“Who am I?” She repeated, shaking her head incredulously. “Who are  _ you _ ?! What happened to all these p-people?” She tripped over her words.

“Did you do this to them?” She asked in a small voice, suddenly aware of the fact that she was surrounded by people with weapons, wearing the same colors - an army? - and her natural assumption that people meant her no harm could very much in fact be incorrect.

Headlines of foreign countries beheading American young women for being Christian flashed in her mind, and she hastily got to her feet.

“Of course not.” The woman seemed affronted at the accusation. “I am Cassandra Pentaghast, a Seeker working with the Chantry, and these are our forces. We’ve come to investigate the explosion of the Conclave and close the Breach. Why did you come out of the rift?”

Jodie must’ve been going crazy. Dragon Age…? No. This was real life, not some video game!

“The rift? What’s a rift? That green tornado…?”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed and raised her sword, the pointy end but a few inches away from Jodie’s throat. “Do not pretend not to know. Are you in league with the man who murdered the Divine?”

At the weapon leveled at her throat, Jodie flinched and started to panic, imagining herself in the pictures of those poor beheaded girls. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her face started tingling as if it was going numb.

“I don’t know what that is! I don’t even know where I am - I-I didn’t kill anyone, I don’t even know what religion that is, I swear! Please don’t hurt me.” 

“Alright, that’s enough.” A pissed-off sounding, tall, dark-haired man stalked over and shoved Cassandra’s blade down and away from her, and moved to stand in between the two women, putting a hand on Jodie’s shoulder. 

“I bet you would’ve done this to me if I’d been conscious after coming out of the Fade. Your threats are pointless, anyone can tell she’s not even from around here with that accent. We all saw that demonic man torturing the Divine so you can stop being suspicious of every unlucky soul getting launched out the Fade.”

“He may have allies that yet live, Derek - and, aside from yourself, everything else that has ever come out of the Fade has been a demon.” Cassandra said, unhappy at being chastised, but sheathed her weapon. “But I agree. Clearly she is human, and appears harmless. There is the more pressing issue of closing the Breach.”

“I know that when things go to crap, it’s usually demons, but not  _ everything’s  _ a demon, Seeker. I’m just thankful that she came out instead when we opened that thing. I for one, was expecting something much less pretty, and with a lot more horns.”

“Don’t count your eggs before they hatch Varric.” The man who had protected her said, giving him something between a smirk and a grimace. “I didn’t close it yet.”

“Indeed.” Jodie blanched at the one who spoke next - a lithe looking bald man with a welsh-sounding accent, and more importantly, long pointed ears. “Further disruption is required before you may seal it completely.”

“Alright. Well first off - what’s your name?” The man lowered his voice and asked, patting her shoulder. Right now, it was the most reassuring touch of her life.

“Jodelle.” She said. “But you can call me Jodie if you want. Thank you so much for...” It felt too rude to say “saving me" when the others were standing right there, and she didn’t want to make them angry.

“Don’t mention it. They tried to do the same thing to me earlier, for the same crime of walking out a rift. I’m Derek.” He glanced her up and down for a moment. “Can you fight, Jodie?”

“No…?” She answered hesitantly, not understanding why he was asking. 

“Then you should get back from the rift while we do this. They’ve got a track record of spewing out demons and I don’t think we’ll get lucky with getting pretty young women instead a second time.” He said, giving her a wink and a pat on the back. Jodie flushed. Was he flirting with her?

“Best spot for you is probably up behind the archers.” Derek pointed to where a group of men and women with bows crouched on some rubble further up the hill.

“Right. Okay.” This was all moving too fast for her to question it, so Jodie just scrambled up the broken wall and jogged up the hill until she was behind the archers where he had pointed to.

Crouched and mostly hidden behind a rock, Jodie watched in mild horror as Derek raised his hand and a huge monster came out of the glowing expanse of rock.

Where  _ was  _ she? Cassandra, Varric… the man with the pointed ears. The Chantry, the Divine. The monster that had exploded out of floating green rock. It made no sense, but it was Dragon Age. But Dragon Age was a video game. The freezing mountain air, the pain of her bruises, the object fused into her hand, the loud cackling of demonic laughter and the smell of ozone as it whipped about a strand of lightning… it was real. So glaringly real in a way that couldn’t have been misconstrued as a dream under any rationale.

Jodie shrank further behind the rock.

It was real, and a soft modern girl like her wouldn’t last a minute in a cutthroat world like this on her own.

_ But wait _ . Jodie thought.  _ If this is truly Dragon Age, then aren’t I in a good position here? Someone with my knowledge is invaluable for them. _

Considering she had no marketable skills or money, it was her best shot at avoiding premature death from demons or starvation. She just had to figure out how to explain her future knowledge.

Jodie glanced down at the jewel that had stubbornly fused itself to her hand. Thedas had magic. Who was to say that a rare magical artifact hadn’t fused itself to her hand while wandering the Fade, wiping her memories of where she was from and leaving her with the ability to foresee certain events?

Mmm, that sounded a little bit too much like forbidden magic - not blood magic, but definitely on par with stuff from Tevinter. She thought a bit harder about her position.

_ Right now, Derek needs help.  _ She couldn’t even fathom the kind of pressure that was already on his shoulders, and he wasn’t even leading the Inquisition yet. There was a good chance that if she gave him some guidance that then proved to be valuable, he’d keep her around. That could be good enough - just telling him and nobody else.

Despite her attachment to the characters in the video game, in reality so far  _ he _ was the only one she cared about. 

He was the only one who deserved it.

Roaring its death, the pride demon collapsed into a collection of green particulate which was sucked back into the Fade, and Derek took that moment to seal it up for good.

As the sounds of battle and the hissing of the rift abruptly came to a still silence, everyone in the crater seemed to hold their breath in a lull that extended the moment.

In the parts of her mind that cataloged information from her video game experience, Jodie knew that the Inquisitor went down and stayed down for three days after sealing the rift under the Breach.

The Jodie in reality shot to her feet in panic as her only savior dropped like a fly, glowing hand continuing to twitch even after his body went limp against the ground. She nearly tripped over a broken piece of wall trying to get to him faster.

“Merely unconscious. For a non-mage, channeling such a vast amount of magical power took a toll on his body. With rest, he should make a full recovery.” Solas announced from where he’d kneeled by Derek to feel his pulse.

His words lifted her chest with relief, but it was hard for Jodie to hang back and just watch as two of Cassandra’s men lifted him up, so she trailed behind them all the way out the temple wreckage and resolved to stick by him until they reached Haven, regardless of what remaining demons lingered in the area. 

“Well, it's still there, but it’s not spinning and spitting out demon balls left and right. Color me impressed.” Varric really knew how to break up a tense atmosphere, his smooth voice and jovial tone more pronounced when surrounded by the more serious personalities of Solas and Cassandra.

It was still odd to think that it was really him, Jodie thought. He looked exactly like him, down to the gold earring and the chest hair. Just different, because he was real, living and breathing, and taking up physical space in the real world. 

“Though the mark alone may have failed to seal the Breach completely, I suspect a second attempt with more magical resources may succeed.” 

“That’s gonna be a tough one.” Varric remarked, “Considering recents events, we’re all a bit short on mages and templars. Josephine’s going to have her hands full with this one.”

Conversing among themselves about the issue at hand, it was a while before the topic came back around to her. Jodie was deep in thought, looking at Derek’s slack face. He was quite handsome, she noticed, with light brown skin and curly black hair. If she didn’t already know he was from the Free Marches she would have thought he was Antivan. He had a kind of sharp face, angled features making him look angry even when he was asleep. If she had to guess she’d place him around his mid twenties.

“So, Jodelle right?” Varric’s voice brought her out of her quiet observation of the Inquisitor to-be. “How’d you end up getting spit out of a rift? Shit like that doesn’t happen every day.”

Here goes nothing.

“I fell into a mirror.” She answered truthfully, glad she had thought out what to say beforehand from the sheer power of Solas’ stare cutting into the back of her head at the mention of a mirror. “Cut my hand on it and then ended up somewhere with  _ more _ mirrors. Got this gem thing fused on my hand, and then fell through another mirror into … the rift, I guess. It was green and I was being spun around like crazy and then flying through the air so I didn’t have a lot of time to look around.”

“Normally, I would say that’s crazy, but I happen to know someone who got blood on a mirror and it did all kinds of weird shit.” Varric said. “You got a gem fused to your hand?”

“I think it’s a gem.” Jodie held her hand out and let him look at it, feeling a bit odd about the fact that Varric Tethras, the video game character, was actually physically touching her hand right now. “No matter how I dig at it, it’s like it’s woven in with my skin.”

It was difficult to be patient as both Cassandra and Solas took and inspected her hand in turn, the latter taking much longer and making an irritatingly unreadable expression. Her story was well-received, however, with the physical evidence to corroborate. Both Varric and Solas had experience with mirrors acting unnaturally which Jodie figured helped as well. 

“What were you doing before you fell into the mirror?”

Now for the tricky part.

“I’m not sure. I can’t remember anything before I was in the place with the mirrors.” She lied, shaking her head as if in a struggle with a brain sluggish with details. “I know my name… how old I am… how to read.” She added as they passed by a sign on the outskirts of Haven, genuinely delighted at this discovery. 

What a nightmare it would’ve been to be illiterate in Thedas.

“Ah. That amnesia will get you every time. Stories are much more believable. Told Stabby that too.” 

“Stabby?” 

“The pissed-off looking guy who saved you from the long end of Cassandra’s sword. Just be grateful you’ve got no books on you or she might’ve done it anyways.”

Oh, he meant Derek. That’s right, Varric was into nicknames. It was hard to remember the video game character’s quirks with a real person in front of her.

“Spare me the jokes, Varric.” Cassandra sounded weary.

“You stabbed me in the book! Tale of the Champion didn’t deserve to be disrespected like that.”

The Seeker made a disgusted noise and stalked ahead.

If anybody found it odd that Jodie requested to stay in the infirmary with Derek when they reached Haven, nobody said so. Apparently they had enough faith in how he’d come to her rescue earlier, or perhaps in her defenselessness, enough to not think her a threat to their new Herald.

Whatever the reason, Jodie was glad for it. The burning sensation in the back of her throat told her that were she alone right now, the torrent of distress she’d been just barely keeping at bay would consume her.

As it was even now with four walls and her savior by her side, the quiet crackle of the fire had her relaxing in the bedside chair, the absence of adrenaline having her slump as silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Soreness woke her. Disorientedly sitting up, Jodie realized she had fallen asleep in the chair. Judging by the early morning rays of sunlight filtering through the lone window, she’d slept through the rest of the day and the entire night as well.

Some kind soul had left a blanket over her - if the ratty, threadbare sheet could be called a blanket. Nonetheless, it was an act of kindness she was grateful for, considering her hoodie did little to keep out the bitter mountain cold.

Derek lay at her side, and she was relieved to see his face was much less pale and clammy as it had been before. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, and he was peaceful but for the occasional spark and twinge of his mark. The previous occupants of the other two beds in the infirmary were gone. Even with the miraculous healing magic and potions of this world, they’d been in such a state that Jodie had the suspicion they hadn’t left the infirmary because they’d made a full recovery. It was a sobering thought.

Lingering in the chair, Jodie lamented how her body insistently presented it’s needs to the forefront of her now wakeful mind. She’d have to leave Derek’s side, no matter how much she didn’t want to.

_ I have no money _ . The thought loomed over her head like a guillotine. The nawings of hunger were already beginning to start in her stomach. The idea of working any manner of medieval job had her recoiling. Two years of kitchen work at McDonald’s had been bad enough. She could only imagine the horrors of the medieval kitchen.  At least she was in more decent shape than an average gamer might have been. Ever since her friend from freshman year had introduced her to Zumba, she’d been an active member of the club, attending all three times a week. It didn’t feel like exercise if you were dancing. However, that really didn’t mean she was in shape to do any of the hard labor that might’ve been useful here, though.

Having a healthy BMI didn’t mean she had any muscles to speak of. ' _ Useless, noodley arms...'  _ She thought glumly.

After several minutes of debating her options, Jodie still found herself unwilling to pursue any job she thought of. Her twenty-four hours of grueling Thedas experience hadn’t changed the fact that she was a soft modern girl. Jodie hated bugs. And rats. Scary things. Hard things. Scurvy. Food poisoning. The flu. Oh god, the plague. The blight???

Zoning out while staring at the vacant clinic beds contemplating the twenty one years spent accumulating antibodies now obsolete, a solution came to her. 

One of the main ways of making money in game had been selling loot. Abandoned weapons, armor, fabric, herbs, and figurines or other valuable personal effects. She’d be at an advantage compared to any similarly-minded scavengers, because she already knew where some of them would be. Especially in Haven, the first area was the one she’d played the most even if she hadn’t finished several of her playthroughs. But it could be dangerous… and yesterday was the first time she’d ever seen a dead person. Shuddering, Jodie imagined the kind of wounds a demon would leave on someone they’d killed.

Looking miserably down at herself, she regretted not having brought more with her. A pack of gum, keys, lip balm, and a couple hair bands were all her pockets had to offer her. A pair of cheap pearl stud earrings, and a simple necklace, and some everyday clothes were all she’d worn. Like an idiot, she’d left her phone on her cleaning cart.

Laying her hand over Derek’s she spoke a soft apology for leaving him. 

“I hate to leave you here alone, but I know you’ll be okay. I’ll be back soon. Won’t be much help to you poor and starving, after all.”

Forcing herself to her feet with a long sigh, she trudged reluctantly to the door. Jodie wasn’t keen to find out how long she could go without food and water, and Dragon Age II had shown her just how kind this world was to the penniless.

Wrapping the blanket tightly around her shoulders, Jodie went to find what she could among the bodies of the unlucky.

\---

A kaleidoscope of images danced behind Derek’s eyelids. Drifting in a sea of vague consciousness, he couldn’t pinpoint the moment that they coalesced into something discernable.

“I thought I’d find you here, brother.” 

Small frame hidden in the shadow of the tree, the hand clutching the knife scraping a tally mark into the bark stiffened. This was  _ his _ spot, he remembered, and took a sharp inhale of the warm summer air.

“If you’ve come to pity me, don’t bother. I’m fine alone.”

“Who says I’m not just here to hide from Ser Marington’s boring history lessons?” Parting the tall grass that grew abundantly in the yard behind House Trevelyan, Maxwell took a seat in between the roots next to him.

“At least you  _ have _ lessons.” Derek had meant to keep his tone neutral, but bitterness was hard to hide in his voice. One of the knights in town had told him it would be easier when his voice dropped.

He really hoped so.

Folding the clasp that sheathed the knife within the metal case, Derek shifted his body so that his marks weren’t in such clear view.

“You don’t need to hide them.” Max said, with that ever-patient voice. Derek couldn’t stand the way his eyes - blue and soft, unlike his muddy hazel green - always seemed to look through him. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Don’t act like you know me!” Derek bit out. “You don’t even know what these mean. Why are you here?” 

Maxwell didn’t answer.  Derek scoffed and turned back to stare at the tree.

“...I know that Father and Mother are wrong to treat you so differently from me.” Max sounded nervous, for once. “If they were only willing to have one heir, they should’ve been more careful after I was born. You don’t deserve to suffer ‘cause they didn’t want kids.”

“It’s whatever.” He said dismissively, but took the offered olive branch. “Not _your_ fault.”

Max’s smile was unfair. Open, and missing a tooth, and capable of charming anybody. Or at least all the servants in the house that brought him treats after bed that refused to do the same for Derek no matter how well-behaved he was. But no matter how hard he tried to stay angry at Max, he was too kind for it to last long.

“So… what do they mean?”

“...It’s how I keep count.” Derek admitted, gesturing at the tree. “One mark every time, so that I don’t forget. I don’t want to forget.”

“Oh… then I’ll count the marks with you.” Max said, placing a hand on Derek’s shoulder.

“...Okay.” Grinding his teeth, Derek swallowed back the wave of emotion that surged up his throat. He twitched, wanting and not wanting to shrug off the hand that Max placed on his shoulder. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Maxwell said, standing and brushing off his legs. Before he left, he turned as if to say something, stopped, and then shook his head. “I won’t tell you they care about you, Derek. Just that _I_ do. You’ll always have me, brother.”

Derek didn’t respond.  The crunching of footsteps on grass faded, and the kaleidoscope returned, taking away the Free Marches and replacing them with snow and mountains.

“It’s good to finally see you again, brother. Ever since this chaos started, the mail carriers all but disappeared from the Ostwick Circle to escape the action. Can’t say I blame them, but my last letter from you was the announcement of your Lordship.”

“Sorry about that, Max. It’s been harder for me to pull off bribes now that I’m head of the house. Never really got used to having so many eyes on me. Hard to believe I used to  _ want  _ this.” Derek kicked the snow off his boot, giving his brother a rueful smile. 

Maxwell laughed, and thumped Derek’s shoulder. “Eh, you didn’t miss out on much. Mother always made the worst cookies. They had better ones in the Circle, if you can believe it.”

“Quality baked goods or not, I commend you for not going stir crazy in there. Maker knows I would, you know I can’t stand being inside for long.” Snow crunched rhythmically underfoot as they climbed the steps to the temple.

“Yes, well.” Maxwell gazed up at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, breath fogging the air in front of him. “If the peace talks go well, I might be a free man.”

“Hah. If only I had but an ounce of your optimistic spirit, Max.” Derek teased as they walked through the large oaken doors, for once, open to all. “But for now we’ll just have to wait and see what the Maker has in store for us.”

The words echoed faintly before being swept away.  Surroundings returning to a swirl, the scene changed quicker this time. But this time, Derek was alone in a crater of ashes and rubble. Before him, a torched corpse, hands outstretched protectively to either side as if to shield the similarly charred figures behind it.

Physically all unrecognizable, but standing before it he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, this was Max. His rage churned like the green in the sky. There was no receptacle for the vengeance that boiled in his blood but a flickering shadow of evil eyes in the Fade. How could he rip apart what he could not reach? It was unacceptable. Unbearable.  It would be like a betrayal to Max and all he’d given Derek over the years to just let his murderer go free. The very thought of doing so threatened to swallow him in shame. But where to look?

  
  
  


_ “I’ll help you.” _

Colors merged inwards on themselves, and then smoothed out into a mute grey. From one end, as if far away and getting closer, a golden light shone.

“Who’s there?” Squinting against the light, for several moments, there was no response. It took no physical form, but Derek found himself imagining a woman in the light, like he had when he was in the Fade.

But this light glowed with a gold warmth unlike the eerie green of the woman who’d saved him from the spiders. Derek realized then it was just a dream, but it was comforting. As he thought this, the sensation of pillows and blankets formed on the edge of his conscience.

_ “Don’t fear the night ahead of you. No matter how many times you go dark, I’ll be there to reignite you. Follow me to your enemy. I won’t let you lose your way.” _

Both scene and words softly faded into blackness, but instead of wakefulness, Derek fell into a deep, restful sleep. 

\---

Plodding up the hill towards the broken bridge, Jodie scanned her surroundings for demons for what must have been the hundredth time. In this circumstance, it would’ve been impossible for her not to have been on edge, but necessity forced her to be brave.  Luck was on her side so far, after all. She’d already found something that was the most valuable for this entire excursion - a large leather pack, in good shape unlike the person she’d found it on. Perhaps it was a good thing she had an empty stomach. She’d dry retched thrice now. At least the cold made it impossible for her to smell anything. That would’ve made the already harrowing experience much worse.

Coming across a group of felled soldiers near the broken bridge, she drew the end of her blanket-shawl over her nose and mouth like a scarf, and checked their pockets for coin pouches.

Into her pack they went. She could consolidate them later. From a rough visual estimation - she didn’t have time to count - it seemed like most people she’d come across so far carried somewhere between five to, at most twenty to thirty silvers on their person. Hopefully she’d get lucky with a sovereign or two, but so far she was doing well for herself.

Already having made the decision that she wouldn’t take things she wasn’t sure were valuable due to being limited in what she could carry, she left their heavy steel swords and personal items alone. One, however, had a dagger strapped to their leg that looked like it had jewels encrusted in the hilt. Deeming it valuable enough, she took it, along with the leather leg strap. If it wasn’t worth selling, she’d keep the dagger to use herself. Memories of using her swiss army pocket knife while camping as a kid reminded her that a knife blade would be useful in a world like this, even if not used for combat.

Moving along the frozen river, careful not to slip on the ice, she picked up a shiny looking amulet with a green gem, any rings that weren’t on someone’s left hand ring finger, several mabari figurines - this  _ was _ Fereldan after all - and a lucky find: an intact soldier’s log notebook and what she assumed was a Thedas writing utensil. Similar logbooks had been on some of the previous cor-... bodies she found, but they’d all been soaked through with dried blood, rendering them useless. Being able to write things down would come in handy later.

Despite her hunger and building exhaustion, Jodie forced herself to continue looting until her pockets were crammed and pack heavy. If she played her cards right, she wouldn’t have to do this again soon.

Busy planning out what she needed to buy first, she hadn’t noticed the danger approaching her while her guard was down. Playing the game, she’d always marveled at how fast Shades could move without making a sound. Below her on the snowy hill, it’s first blow raked deep across her lower leg. An instinctive reaction to the sudden blossoming of pain, she lurched forward with a pained yelp and away from the source.

Now aware that she was under attack, adrenaline flooded Jodie’s veins like never before. Scrambling forward, she crawled forward as fast as she could through the snow, leg too injured for her to put weight on it. 

“N-no- _ NO _ ! Stop! Get away from me!” She screeched - it was right behind her, making its gurgling hiss at full volume now at the excitement of the impending kill. Flipping onto her back so that she was facing it, she desperately pushed herself backwards with two hands and a leg. God, it’s twisted maw was disgusting, twisted into an expression of glee as it raised its claws in what was sure to be her death blow. Choking out a sob, she flung up her hands to shield her face, screwing her eyes shut.

Instead of the blow she was expecting, there was a high-pitched whistling sound, and Jodie opened her eyes just in time to watch several arrows embed themselves in the demon. Some of them had been launched so hard they ran it right through, and thunked into the snow instead. With an ugly howl, the demon expired and collapsed, body quickly fading to a small sac of goo.

“Are you alright, woman? Maker, you must be daft to come out here alone and unarmed.” Clad in soon-to-be Inquisition green, a small company of people ran toward her. “...Aw shite, the bastard all but clawed your leg off. Larise?” 

One rushed forward to hand her a red bottle. Jodie numbly accepted it, mind spinning from the adrenaline high and the terrible pain now at the forefront of her mind with the imminent threat was over. 

“Well don’t just sit there,  _ drink _ it, girl!” The woman said, Orlesian accent thick. After another dazed moment, she found the bottle uncorked and pressed to her lips, and snapped out of her daze to drink. 

It tasted like nothing she’d ever experienced before, cool and warm at the same time. With every mouthful, her pain diminished greatly, and Jodie watched in awe as the deep red wounds sealed themselves up before her eyes. When empty, nothing of her wound remained but a small puckered scar line, the blood frozen to her leg, and the tear in her pants.

“Woah… Uh, I mean, thank you!” Rising to her feet cautiously, she was surprised to find that her leg felt good as new. Blinking at the others, she belatedly added on. “Thank you so much for saving me. I was- I was going to die!”

The man who’d spoken first barked a laugh at the plain statement. “Indeed you were. No need to thank us though. It’s our job to clear this area before the scouts come through on their way to the Hinterlands.”

Jodie belatedly realized that must mean Scout Harding and Leliana’s other scouts were already on their way to locate Mother Giselle in their last ditch attempt at regaining Chantry support.

“I’m Sergeant Emish. I’ve got Corporal Vale and three other groups staged in the area. We’ll soon finish up here and rendezvous, so Larise and Nillan can escort you to Haven, my lady.” His gaze lingered on her full pack and earrings. “Demons aren’t the only dangerous things around here.”

A shudder not borne of the cold went through her as she realized that here, that was the truth. And she hadn’t thought of it.

“You’re right, of course. Thank you Ser. I’m er- sorry for the trouble.” She continued, glancing at the two soldiers that had come to stand by her side. The man, Nillan, looked annoyed. Larise just looked on at the path ahead.

“Just be more careful next time, and for the Maker’s sake, take someone with you next time. Someone  _ armed _ . Seen enough death to last a lifetime in the past two days.” Waving a hand to dismiss them, he turned and left, squad close behind.

Setting off back down the mountain, this time with her new two-man escort felt lightyears safer, and aside from the chill that seeped in when the wind blew in the places her blanket-shawl was worse for wear, Jodie almost felt safe.

“So, how much do I owe you for the potion?” She asked, hoping their silence was because they were battle-hardened, tried and true Thedas residents, and not due to resentment. 

“Twenty silvers.” Larise said, and Jodie stiffened, naively having completely expected her to say ‘nothing.’ 

“-But I daren’t truly ask you for it.” The sigh that left the woman’s lips sounded half-weary and half-amused. “Sister Nightingale would surely find out and then subject me to a lecture about how we are always to be examples of Andraste’s kind spirit and give freely to those in need. It’s not worth the silver..”

“Oh.” Jodie said, laughing awkwardly. “I see.” Biting back the words  _ I’m sorry _ because she thought it would just make it worse, she just shifted her pack about her shoulders and decided to spend the rest of their trek back to Haven in silence.

It was an uneventful trip, and parting with another hastily given thank you, the soldiers left her at the gates. Making haste towards the warmth of the indoors, Jodie wondered who to speak to about acquiring some personal shelter, hoping a tent wasn’t her only option.

Blushing self-consciously at the looks a few Haven villagers gave her as she passed - right, she’d forgotten that though the wound was gone, her leg was still a bloody mess - she added new pants to her growing shopping list. 

After she got all the essentials sorted, she had a note to write before Derek awoke. And, because Varric had been right, a story to come up with. Amnesia wasn’t going to cut it for long. Not with someone as ruthless as Leliana as the spymaster. Speaking with Larise earlier had reminded her of that.

“Excuse me. Do you happen to know who I should speak to here about some more permanent accommodations? I’m new.” Flashing a woman and her similarly religiously dressed companion a friendly smile, Jodie hoped they weren’t the Roderick type.

“Ah, that would be Farine, Miss. She’s usually outside Lady Josephine’s room.” One said, smiling back at her brightly, looking pleased at the opportunity to be of some help. 

“Thanks!”

“Maker, what happened to your leg?” The older one clucked her tongue and appraised Jodie’s leg with a hiss. 

“Oh- it’s just blood, I had a potion for the injury. It looks worse than it is.”

“Ah. Well then, Maker go with you.” The woman gave her a nod and what Jodie assumed was a common phrase for goodbye, so she returned the gesture and continued on her way into the Chantry.

Hopefully Farine was nice. It was _unbearably_ cold here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so proud, *sniffs dramatically and wipes at my face* my young Jodie is following in Hawke's footsteps...!  
> And by that I mean, looting = solution to problems. Lmao!
> 
> This fic was inspired by this song, and if you listen to it, you'll probably understand why within the first few lines, lol.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zTgfGtutqhY

**Author's Note:**

> My brain really, really wanted to read MGiT/Male Inquis romance but I couldn't find any. Like, extremely self-indulgent, Inquis and MGiT against the world kind of shit.
> 
> So this happened.


End file.
